Depression: Rhea

“Dude, it’s called a comedy movie for some reason,” my voice is a lot louder than the normally accepted levels. “At least respect the name of the genre.”
“Sorry!” Rhea says, showing her teeth, but it’s not a smile. She’s just stretching the corners of her lips. But what saddens me are her eyes. There’s something strange in them as their colour changes rapidly thanks to the colourful film running on the silver screen. I’ve brought her to the movies to watch Minions and the entire hall is laughing except for this one girl sitting next to me.
“Seriously,” I say as we step outside after the film. “That was great stuff. I mean, not as great as the ‘Despicable’ ones, but nothing beats a good laugh, right?” I look at her expectantly and all she returns is a nod. Of all the things she does, her silence is the only one I can never tolerate.
“STOP,” I say jumping in her way and spreading my arms in order to contain her from moving past. “WHAT is your problem?”
“Problem? What problem?” she asks, perplexed.
“Oh come on. You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes, but she stays mum waiting for an elaboration. “You know I absolutely hate those dramatic things. You’ll be quiet, I’ll be guessing what’s wrong with you, you won’t speak thanks to your ego, I won’t ask out of respecting your privacy. You know what? Screw that. People should be straightforward. Now tell me why are you so un-Rhea-tic?”
She sighs. “You know it Parth. Stop pretending that you don’t.”
“I’m not pretending. I don’t know. A lot of people break up. A lot of people fall apart. But with time, they move on. Look at you! You’re so sullen. You’re so NOT you,” I answer, with a certain edge to my voice.
“I’m sorry,” is what I get in return, and I’m just millimetres away from losing it now.
“WHAT IS IT RHEA?” I cross the remaining millimetres in a jiffy.
I guess I might have scared her, because then she answers. “It’s… it’s just that after what we were, and what we’ve become—me and him—I just don’t know what to do with my life anymore. I don’t think I deserved him in the first place, Parth. I feel that I was deluded enough to believe that I can be good for someone in the first place. I’m just...” she trails off.
I don’t know what to answer and how. So I don’t.
Instead, I stare at her for a really long moment, and when I’m done, I pull out her phone from her handbag. She’s confused, but doesn’t protest. All the time I do my work, she keeps staring at me.
“Don’t you want to have a look at what’s happening here?” I say, pointing my index finger down toward the screen of the smartphone. She does, and before she gives me a loud, angry reaction, I look at her. “Just this one thing, Rhea. For me. It’s time.” She doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at me.
And then, she obliges. Just like that. No argument, no disagreement. Nothing. She just purses her lips and nods, and it suddenly strikes me that my sister loves me more than what I thought, and I can’t stop wondering if it’s just Rhea, or it’s an “All-sister” thing.